Endurance
by SteveElOtaku
Summary: Yamatai is behind her. Lara, however, feels like she's still on that island, and the transition back to a normal life is proving hard. A night of clubbing gone bad leads to her losing her inhibitions with her best friend. Now knowing her more intimately than ever, Lara wants to continue. Sam wants to help Lara, but the scars of the past threaten to drag them both down.
1. Chapter 1

There's a reason Lara Croft doesn't go clubbing very often.

And it's only now, as she's slamming a pervert's head into the bar, Sam barely able to hold her back as security scrambles into entirely-too-delayed action, that she realizes why. After two days of hell, the last thing she wanted to feel was an unwashed savage of a man grabbing her.

A sickening crunch echoes in Lara's mind, but she knows she hasn't killed the man. Only a short while ago, she probably would have killed him.

But that was Yamatai. That was survival.

This was recovery.

And she hated it.

The doors can't fly open fast enough for Lara as she leaves. The rain pours down, making her mood even worse. She can tell herself it's not Yamatai. She can tell herself it's not a goddess-created storm, that she's safe at home, that everything's alright…but she knows that the third thing is a lie.

She's not alright.

It takes only a few minutes for Sam to catch up to Lara. It takes even less for the two to get home. Croft Manor. A sprawling, rich legacy of treasure hunters and archaeologists. But it is a lonely home. Winston is a butler, not a caregiver, and even if Lara was Batman and he was Alfred, she would still feel the pain. For years she tried to live a normal archaeologist's life. Push the disappearance of her parents aside, not touching a single cent of her fortune so she could cling to the only good memories she had.

And Yamatai tore that apart.

"Lara. Please. Stop. I'm sorry…" Sam begins, reaching for her, before pulling back out of fear.

Lara doesn't get mad. She cries. Her hair, a wild, tangled mess, splays out on the pillow as she cries in her bed. Sam knows what to do. Sam, her only real best friend, her closest confidant…

"Sam…oh God, Sam…"

Lara's hand reaches for Sam's. It doesn't quite make it. It instead brushes the Japanese-American girl's raven hair. It's silky smooth from a mixture of shampoo, rain, and liquor. Lara lets out a slight gasp. The alcohol she consumed earlier is still working its way through her. Sam blushes at the sudden attention and comes closer to Lara. One hand rests on Lara's side. The other brushes Lara's dark hair, looking like a forest of broken, burned wood as her pale hand drifts through it like the wind. Sam's heart begins to pound as she touches her. Alcohol buzzes faintly on her lips and its suggestion draws them closer. A wordless kiss. A silent touch. A rustle of sheets.

Then she turns out the lights and the rest is a blur.

Neither of them can remember what happened.

So it comes as a shock when Lara finds her tank top and bra lying in a heap by the back of her head, and her friend's panties around her fingertips. Sam's lipstick is smudged and Lara's eyeliner has been running.

"Lara? Unf…what happened last night?"

Sam blushes furiously as she recognizes her shade of lipstick all over Lara's body.

Lara blushes even more when she realizes her fingers are damp and her friend looks blissed out.

"Um…Um…"

The words don't come to Lara, but she knows what happened last night.

And so does Sam.

"Sam, please don't be mad, or get the wrong idea, or…"

Sam doesn't stop grinning.

"Lara! I'm finally getting through to you! You finally put that body to use hitting something other than books! And here I thought you were gonna be frigid forever!"

Lara says nothing.

"I…I didn't know what I was doing…I shouldn't have…I didn't ask you…"

Sam just laughs.

"I've been wishing you would."

There is a silence, though "silence" is perhaps an inaccurate term. There is a cessation of speech as the rainstorm continues outside. The aged window panes of Croft Manor run slick with precipitation as a dark, oppressive sky looms on the horizon. Neither woman speaks—for women they are, Yamatai having forged them, a dark crucible of storms and blades, creating the rational from the irrational. Lara's eyes meet with Sam's. It is hard for her to believe she looks upon the descendant of a virtual goddess…but her beauty provides no doubt of that. It is hard for her to believe that her friend, who she just spent a drunken night of passion with, whose gentle eyes and tone have given her considerable comfort, is the direct descendant of a violent tyrant.

The female of the species is deadlier than the male.

That phrase echoes through Lara's mind as she caresses her friend again. Still, something draws her to Sam, something more than friendship, something even more than love. In a way, she supposes, Father Mathias had been right. Neither she nor Sam were heroes. But they were survivors, they were a family, they were one—something that the Solarii had claimed to have.

Still, if Lara saw another samurai, it would be too soon.

Sam yawns as she gets up.

"I think we should shower, Lara. As nice as last night was, we can't go out like this."

Lara looks herself over and sees one of her scars outlined in lipstick. She can't agree more.

"There's probably still alcohol on my breath…how DO you talk me into these things, Sam?"

"You've never been able to resist my pretty face. Also, the fact I keep tugging your arm and making puppy-dog eyes at you till you cave is another reason."

Lara agrees.

There are still days where Lara's bones click and grind, the tension never quite wearing off from her experiences on Yamatai. There are still moments where she feels the phantom pain of the rebar impaling her stomach. In the last few days the tears have finally stopped coming when those moments happen. Even so, it doesn't settle her stomach any better.

Sam has problems too, and Lara knows it, but she's definitely handling them better than her. Lara knows she's cold at times and she wishes she could be more open, but she's just not ready. The real Lara Croft is someone few people have ever seen, and even she isn't sure how they'd react if they saw her unresolved emotional issues pour out. Only Sam, Roth, and maybe Grim even had a hint of the real personality behind the polished marble statue that is Lara's façade.

They shower together, but Sam, playful as she is, can tell Lara isn't in the mood for any funny business. Instead, she just lathers Lara's hair for her, reaching up above her to remove the elastic holding Lara's ponytail in place. Her dark hair cascades about her shoulders and it never fails to take Sam's breath away. Slowly, gently, she wipes away the lipstick covering Lara's scars. Lara moans gently at the touch. She blushes, her face already red from the heat and steam of the shower. Both girls have missed this. Yamatai provided few comforts and if they washed at all it was with icy cold water. Sam's shampoo fills the air with a scent of cherries and strawberries, something half innocent, half sensual. It takes Sam all of her might to not press Lara against the wall and kiss her.

Lara does it instead.

"Promise you'll keep this quiet, Sam? I'm not sure if I'm ready for anything, and I just need…quiet. It just…feels right, doing it like this."

Sam just winks irreverently.

"Alright, Miss big shot superspy. On Her Majesty's Secret Service and all that jazz."

"Please. I'm not going to get shot. Again."

There are certain unwritten rules in the Croft household, and one of them is that you have to have seen at least one James Bond film. And _Quantum of Solace _only half counts—you have to watch _Moonraker _too for it to actually count. In Lara's eyes, each counts as about half of a Bond film. Sam made the choice of _GoldenEye_, which Lara both respected and sighed at.

"You just like it for Sean Bean!" Lara had protested.

"Don't act like you wouldn't hit that." Sam retorted.

Lara admitted she might, if Sean Bean could hold off on dying long enough.

The shower continues, each of them washing the other, holding each other close for comfort. Yamatai had left invisible scars on the both of them, and only something physical, something real, could heal them. Lara sighs, feeling the hot steam slowly untying the knots in her shoulders. Sam nearly slips and Lara catches her.

"I'm falling for you." Sam quips the moment she's on her feet again.

Lara smiles and turns off the water.

In a few moments she and Sam are in matching towels, resting on a wooden bench in the bathroom, sighing with delight. It feels like a weight has been lifted.

But for Lara, her mind is still stumbling, still wearing a backpack full of things she swore she hadn't meant to pick up.

A climbing axe. A loaded gun. Dead souls. Guilt.

And her best friend's panties, wrapped around her fingertips.


	2. Chapter 2

The rain never stops.

Even as she sits drying, Sam humming happily to herself, she can hear the rain driving down on the walls of the manor. Her mouth is faint with the taste of Sam's stale lipstick and the lingering memory of vodka and orange juice.

Lara Croft feels oddly content as she smiles at Sam. She gets up and drops her towels, Sam looking lustily at her. Sam drops her own just as quickly and Lara feels her heart race.

"As much as I'd love to admire the merchandise, Sam, I feel like we should do something with our day. Something that involves having fun without bored perverts ruining it all."

"Or cultists. Or ancient Japanese queens. Or—"

"I was going to suggest the British Museum, but I can see why you'd disagree."

There is another cessation of speech. Lara is a woman of few words, but it is unusual for Sam to be so quiet.

"Lara…would you want to go take some pictures? Go exploring?"

Lara sighs, realizing that Sam's idea of exploring probably involves boys. And she does loathe sharing Sam's company with them. Jealousy, undoubtedly, but having your best friend and now more definite love nearly become a soul jar for an ancient queen tends to do that.

"First thing, let's switch on the telly. I need to see what the weather will be and the news…"

"I'm not watching it naked. I'd never be able to focus, Lara. I'd be too busy watching you."

Lara gently poked her in the ribs.

"Like you're one to talk, Miss 24-Hour Lingerie Channel."

"Hey! That was ONE time!"

"Exactly. 24 hours. In purple lace with black ivy print."

Sam just laughs, her perky breasts bouncing slightly.

"And you just couldn't keep your eyes off them."

She stops and realizes something.

"Shit! I forgot to do laundry! Now I have no bras left to wear…"

Lara giggled.

"I'd offer you mine, but…"

"Way to rub it in that you've got a killer rack, Lara. I'll just go braless, my old one reeks of Wild Turkey."

"I didn't think that was even popular in England."

"It's not. I just know a lot of Americans here."

Lara watched Sam slip into red panties, a pair of black skinny jeans, a fashionable black and white striped top (probably cashmere), and the jacket she'd worn to Yamatai.

Expensive leather carries no bad memories, apparently.

Lara opts for a blue tank top, jean jacket and matching jeans. She sighs faintly, which she does often.

Sam takes one look over Lara.

"You look so 2003 it's hilarious."

"And you look like an angel of darkness. What's next, Goth jewelry?"

"Well, I did once meet this hot guy named Kain. Had a bit of an attitude problem, but he gave me this really pretty necklace. But it keeps biting into me too much. It's got spikes on all sides."

Lara shakes her head, grinning.

"Sam, is there a guy on the planet you don't know?"

Sam smirks.

"Not many I don't. But I'd love to get to know you even more…"

Lara pushes her gently into the living room. She flicks on the telly and waits for the news.

"This just in—a string of crimes has been perpetrated around the abandoned areas of what was once known as the Spanish City. Few know this, but a wax museum at one point had been an attraction there—it was combined with a ghost train to attract more visitors. Unfortunately, it was buried just after construction for reasons unknown—though an official statement says safety may have been the reason. The new Spanish City is still under construction—funds are as yet still unavailable."

Lara is surprised.

"Lord Croft…my father…he took my mother there once."

The news report continues even as Lara's words trail off.

"And now the weather—the rain should be clearing within the hour, but fog is predicted to follow. You may want to hang on to your umbrellas, as a heavy wind is also on the way—"

*click*

"That settles it," declares Lara. "We're going to the ruins of the Spanish City."

"Lara," Sam continues, "That's a construction site. How are we getting in?"

"The workers can't operate in fog. Besides, who knows what else they've opened up…"

Sam sighs.

"Knowing our luck it'll be the ghost of some ancient carnival fortune teller who wants to use my body as a summer home."

Lara wishes she could find the quip funny, but Himiko's attempt at stealing Sam's body had cut her too deeply.

The blue tinges in Sam's arms are still fading. Lara notes that's why she's been wearing long sleeves so much lately. They look like bruises otherwise. Sam figures she might turn one into a tattoo, if it doesn't end up fading. Sam's parents are used to the fact that their daughter is a total wild child, and are thankful every day that she is friends with the sane, ladylike, well-adjusted Lara Croft.

Lara feels like either laughing or crying when she hears them profess their faith in her.

She's a sane, well-adjusted lady, in the Lizzie Borden sense of things; at least that's what she thinks.

It doesn't take much convincing for Winston to get the car ready, short of a "It's about bloody time I got something to do around here. You're a lady, Mistress Croft, it's time you acted like one."

The drive to Blackpool is passed mostly by Lara and Sam singing along badly to Hanson songs in the back seat. Despite this, Lara goes over the contents of her pack. A climbing axe. The two pistols she'd used to shoot Father Mathias off a cliff. A short-wave radio. And a first aid kit.

Sam was bringing her camera and an axe, along with a gun of her own. The hard-partying girl had taken to wanting a little more security lately. Sam, however, favors a sawed-off shotgun. She figures she can't miss with it.

Lara doesn't have the heart to voice her misgivings.

She can't get Dire Straits out of her head as she walks the dead amusement park grounds. Diving under yellow tape and orange plastic, Lara and Sam find a ladder leading all the way down. As each girl begins to climb down, the ladder shudders and gives way. A quick-timed axe strike, made in perfect unison, saves them from a particularly nasty fall.

"Let's not do that again, Sam."

"We really should complain to public works."

As they continue downward, a sense of dread overcomes them….and the fog rolls in. A harsh wind blows, and a feeling of terror sinks into their minds. Though no vengeful queen calls this weather, storms still leave scars in their psyche.

It is a relief then, when they drop to the ground.

And considerably less of one when they fall through the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

As the dust clears, Lara Croft is certain of only one thing.

Sam is alright.

And that is all that matters to her.

She can tell Sam is alright by the fact there's a squealing, giggling five foot four or so girl kicking around on top of her. Lara can't help but smile at Sam's protests.

"Relax, Sam. I broke your fall. And nothing else, fortunately."

Just then, a sound of an eerie carnival calliope starts up. Both girls are so startled they leap off each other. Lights begin turning on with a loud series of clangs. There's a whirr as a generator springs to life. A firey sign welcomes them to "THE WAXWORKS".

That is, until half the bulbs burst and give out, leaving "TH OR S" lit up.

"Shocking," quips Lara as she takes Sam's hand. She enjoys how Sam feels in her hand; her smooth skin contrasting Lara's toughened palms. The tension in Lara's hand leaves. It's like magic.

The door ahead of them opens with some difficulty, but Lara's axe springs it wide open. Fortunately, inside, the room is well-lit. Beneath a layer of dust and dirt, wax figures of two British Redcoats welcome the women to THE HALL OF HEROES.

Another pry of the axe and tinny music starts up. Lara recognizes "The British Grenadiers" almost instinctually. Inside are sculptures of many great British heroes, and a few others from other cultures. General Sir Isaac Brock salutes them, while Theodore Roosevelt directs a hunt. Winston Churchill composes a speech, while Alexander the Great leads his troops. Sam can't stop giggling at Genghis Khan.

"They painted him yellower than that Camaro in _Transformers_!" she exclaims, half scandalized, half amused beyond all reason.

Lara just shakes her head and sighs.

"No wonder this place never opened…even in the 60s, this would never have flown."

Statues of Thor and Anubis lead the women to the HALL OF GREAT MYTHS, a hallway full of beasts like griffons, heroes like King Arthur, and gods like Zeus.

"This place is so tacky…I swear, it's like an American built it. And no respect for history…" Lara moans, taking note of "King Arthur" dressed like a knight from four hundred years later.

"Oh relax! Have some fun! This is history too! No one's been in here in YEARS!" Sam protests, nudging Lara.

King Arthur was shown holding "Excalibur", a wood model so cheap it had begun flaking to bits even without anyone having moved it or knocked it.

Lara's journey through the HALL OF THE HIP 'N HAPPENIN' damn near kills her.

"There is nothing worse than hearing a bad Beatles instrumental next to the world's worst Elvis impersonator," opines Sam.

"Except for One Direction, perhaps." Lara mutters.

Lara groans at all the peace signs and floral prints that litter the walls. The hippy paraphernalia irritates her even more.

"I swear if I hear another sitar…"

Sam pulls Lara close.

"What's wrong, Lara? Don't you ever wish you could have been a part of it? Parties, free love, no inhibitions…"

"All of those were on Yamatai, too."

"You're a real buzzkill, Lara."

Sam kisses Lara and she blushes.

"Sam, this really isn't the time—"

There's a look of pain and sadness in the Japanese girl's eyes. It's like someone is sucking the joy from her.

"It's never the time, Lara. Do you know what it's like, being around you? It's like…having a teddy bear. And you know it's soft and you know it won't hurt you. You can imagine it loves you and if it were a real pet it probably would, but it keeps falling away from you. And you want to save it from falling…but you can't. Because no matter how many times you hold it and hug it, that lost expression never changes… I know nothing's been the same since Yamatai. I know. And that's why I want to help you so badly. It's killing me seeing you like this. It's honest to God killing me. I had Himiko inside me. That…that was torture…but it's also torture not having you inside me. I want to be yours. I want to be with you and stop you from aching. Please, Lara."

Lara feels a tear well up in her eye. She pushes it away. Lara manages a smile as she wraps her arms around Sam's petite body.

"Oh, Sam…I love you. I do…"

She lowers Sam to the floor. Slowly, but surely, their lips meet. They hold each other close and kiss again and again. No alcohol fuels this passion—merely two broken hearts beginning to mend. Lara rolls over and lets Sam be on top. It feels good to taste her strawberry lip balm, to feel those soft hands on her body, brushing over every cut and bruise. It feels good as her jean jacket slips off her slightly as those delicate fingers brush down her scarred shoulders.

Throughout their passionate moment, neither girl notices the floor creak.

That is, until it gives way.

When both girls regain their composure, Sam immediately starts quipping.

"Oh yeah! I totally just rocked Lara Croft's world! One point for me!"

"Remind me to thank you later. After my bones knit."

Naturally, Lara's bones are fine—but her back hurts like hell. She is, however, grateful she took the worst of the fall. Sam's bones aren't as thick.

Unfortunately, they realize that the rubble from the floor has blocked their immediate way up.

And that the only way out is through THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS.

There is a blood-red warning on the door.

"WARNING: THE FOLLOWING ATTRACTION MAY NOT SUITABLE FOR LADIES, CHILDREN, OR ANYONE WITH A HEART CONDITION. AN ALTERNATE EXIT IS AVAILABLE IN THE HALL OF MYTHS."

"Sexist bastards." Lara scoffs, as she rips the door open.

Organ music begins as the door is prised open, and a scream goes off from a torture victim being stabbed by a skeleton with a spear.

"Lovely décor. Who chose it, Vlad the Impaler?" Sam snarks.

"Well, he's here alright," Lara remarks, gesturing to a diorama of a demonic looking mustachioed man next to an impaled victim.

The room was labeled "THE CRUELTY OF MAN" and Lara felt her body seize up at all of the impalements and ripped flesh on display, even in low-quality wax. She shuddered at one display of people in a spiked pit, thinking back to the Stormguard's castle with its hanging cage.

Skeletons were the theme of the hallway between the rooms, and they were hardly as intimidating. A decaying projector sprung to life long enough to show some clips from _Frankenstein_ before giving out.

"The real horror here is the dust," Lara decides, half-serious, as if trying to convince herself what she sees doesn't bother her.

SILVER SCREAMS is the next room, and Lara finds herself somewhat calmed by the presence of Dracula, The Wolf Man, and Frankenstein's monster. The campiness of what she's seeing does little to ease her fear, however. The organ music picks away at the corners of her mind. As she and Sam walk by, a loud scream goes off as a witch puppet pops up.

Lara blows the thing's head off.

"Ouch." Sam musters. "Remind me never to surprise you."

The next hallway is pitch black, except for the odd flash of light. Sam pulls tight to Lara, and they walk through as a funhouse floor begins to spin and shift, making it hard to stand.

That doesn't prepare them for the katana swing down to split their skulls. Lara leaps back and see, to her horror, a giant samurai raising its blade.

"KAMIKAZEEEEEE! KABUTO CHOJIIIIIINN!" it yells just before Sam's shotgun blows it apart, revealing it be an animatronic.

"I'm not dying to a fucking racist caricature." Sam growls as she stomps its yellow-painted head to pieces.

Lara shivers after screaming. Sam's touch begins calming her nerves.

"No more samurai…no more samurai…" Lara mutters, half-crazed with anxiety.

The last room, MOST WANTED, is a relief. Just Billy the Kid, Al Capone, Charles Manson, and Jack the Ripper.

Lara looks disgustedly at Jack the Ripper, chasing a victim with her bare breasts hanging out, as sexualised as possible. The statue of Jack looks disturbingly real.

"Figures the one guy they get right is the one most of England would rather forget…" Lara deadpans.

On the wall across from it, she finds a clipboard.

"Memo to all workers on the MOST WANTED room. Fix up that victim statue. The board of directors don't want her tits hanging out. As well, finish the Jack the Ripper statue, the park is going to open soon!"

She turns to Sam with a look of horror as something crosses her mind.

"Wait…if the Jack the Ripper statue was never finished…"

She turns around…and the statue isn't there.

But she can feel someone breathing down her neck…and it isn't Sam.


	4. Chapter 4

Lara whips around instinctively. Before she can get a shot off, a knife stabs into her arm. Howling in pain, she drops the gun before hitting the floor.

Jack the Ripper stood over them.

"I've been waitin' for this moment a long time, ya bloody slag. Your father was a right bastard and it's only right I give his slut of a daughter a good slicin'…"

Sam begins huddling up in a corner.

"Good girl there, your friend. Won't make a bloody move. An' they say 'angin on in quiet desperation's the English way. Bloody Americans ruin everythin' they touch."

"Who the fuck are you?!" Lara exclaims.

"Me?" Jack laughs, "I'm nobody. I'm just Jack the Ripper's fucking great grandson! Which no one would have had to know if your bloody glory 'ound father hadn't insisted on trumpetin' it to the masses!"

Lara's expression grows hurt.

"My father was a great man!"

"Your father was a money-grubbin' aristocrat. I never get a moment's peace anymore. Least not unless I'm usin' this blade."

Jack the III begins waving his knife around. Lara notes the unusual nature of the blade, as if it's part of a larger whole. She thinks she recognizes it, something from a long-ago memory. Before all the madness began. Before she even met Sam.

"Where'd you get the knife?"

More laughter.

"Oh this? I swiped it off your dad years back. Bloody useful, I tell you. I can kill without anyone remembering my face! I knew if I killed enough people you'd come out. Your kind always does. Bloody vultures."

"And I suppose you're better? I suppose JACK was better?"

"'Course we were. We had to kill the bloody hookers. England was getting' too American, ruttin' wiv every damn slut in the business! So we 'ad to make some cuts."

Lara is speechless.

"You're fucking insane. And worst of all, you're not even original."

That infuriated Jack.

"Oh really? What does the great fuckin' Lara Croft think?"

Sam laughs.

"Please, you're as American as they come!"

"I AM NOT!'

Lara sighed.

"You're pretending to be a long-dead serial killer based out of an abandoned amusement park. You're motivated by revenge, and you're about to be stopped by meddling kids. Do I need to get the dog, or do you get the hint?"

"FUCK YOU AND YOUR SCOOBY-DOO!"

At that moment it becomes clear what Sam was doing. One blast from her shotgun knocks Jack to the ground, helpless.

"Sod it all!"

Sam walks over and kicks him in the face.

"Who's the stupid American now?"

Lara walks over and prises the knife shard from his hand.

"I'll be taking that."

"What are ya gonna do wiv me?!"

"You're going to jail, Jack. Like a common criminal."

It takes a long time for Lara and Sam to leave the wax museum, and even longer for the police to get down there, but Jack isn't going anywhere. Eventually he's loaded into an ambulance. Lara flexes her archaeologist cred and Jack's story (conveniently, Sam was recording the whole time) to get out of any trespassing charges, and Sam holds her tight. Winston drives them back to Croft Manor, admonishing them the whole way.

"Bloody hell—you could have been killed—Mistress Croft, you're a lady—Ms. Nishimura, what would your parents think—Jack the Ripper, of all the—Mistress Croft…your father would be damn proud of you. But all the same, bloody hell, can you stay out of trouble for once?!"

Lara and Sam collapse in a fit of the giggles.

Once Lara stows the knife shard away in a safe place, she and Sam go to her bedroom. Winston does Sam's laundry, begrudgingly ("It's about bloody time that girl learns how to do laundry herself, I'm your butler, not hers").

Sam begins bandaging Lara's arm after cleaning it with antiseptic. She doesn't say much but has to admit Lara looks good without a shirt.

"Oooh…a black bra. Didn't see that coming from you, Lara. I always figured you were a white and pink kind of girl. And not like cheerleader hot pink either."

Despite the pain, Lara smirks.

"Did you come to heal me or hump me?"

"Both, if you like."

After the wound is patched up, Sam locks the door and slips down between Lara's thighs. She spreads them open further, noticing their jagged scars, perfectly complementing each other.

"You got cut up pretty badly here, huh?"

"Yes."

Sam looks up for a minute.

"I'm sorry about the wax museum and all that, I mean…even I was getting nervous in the Chamber of Horrors and all that…And that fucking samurai, I mean…"

She begins crying again.

"Look at me…Lara…I'm pathetic. I'm crying over a fucking joke meant to scare tourists. But…I'm a tourist, Lara. I'm a tourist in my own life. Either that, or I'm the hotel. A hotel for guys to put their dicks in or for ancient fucking bitches to use at their leisure. I'm nothing, Lara. A miserable little nothing."

She cries harder and harder.

"Just fucking look at me! While you were saving me at Yamatai, what was I doing? Getting stripped, fondled, and shoved into a fucking wedding dress with flowers in my hair and being handed to my greatest-fucking-great-grandma, basically! You were bloodied, bruised, battered, broken, burned, and impaled…and I did nothing. I trusted Mathias because he showed me some kindness. And you? I thanked you by getting kidnapped."

Lara sits up, ignoring the pain, to stroke Sam's hair.

"You saved my life today, Sam. You saved me from a deranged murderer. I'd say any debt from Yamatai is repaid. But you never had to. I'd give my life for you, Sam."

Sam stops crying enough to hook fingers in Lara's panties.

"I've been good. Can I have a Scooby Snack?"

Lara rolls her eyes before laughing. Sam's flirting was never subtle. But it was cute, she had to admit.

"Screw me, do."

There's calmness as Sam licks away for a while, but she's tired, and she stops soon after to climb up onto Lara's moaning body.

"I'm tired, Lara. I'm so very tired…"

Lara smiles faintly.

"You did well, love. Sleep."

Winston could not rouse the ladies for afternoon tea, and so he sits alone drinking his cup and reminiscing about Lord Croft, and how proud he would be of his young, immature, and headstrong daughter.

Late at night, when the ladies aree more and more asleep, Lara awakes to find Sam had gone to her room while she slept.

Lara rises, cold and lonely. Stripping out of her bra, she runs over to her closet and finds the box holding her ruined clothes from Yamatai. She puts them on, hole-filled though they are. Slowly she makes her way to Sam's room and opens the door, gently calling her name.

When Sam sits up, she sees a scanty Lara in ruined clothes looking lost.

"I need you, Sam. And I need you to touch my scars. I need you to treat me."

The curves of her body, athletic and sculpted features are visible. Little is left to Sam's imagination.

She needs not even that.

Lara is in her arms in seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

The storm finally breaks in the morning. The fog lifts, and the sun finally shows its face.

Neither girl has slept well. Sam has spent the night kissing Lara's scars and holding ice and cold beer bottles to her gut wound to dispel the phantom pain, occasionally sharing a sip of the alcohol with her. There's something comforting about wearing the old clothes, despite the trauma. When Sam kisses the scars on her inner thighs she feels two kinds of thrills. There's a feeling of fear as she approaches, which is quickly replaced by impossible pleasure as her lips and tongue touch tender flesh, scar tissue becoming erogenous to her.

The two girls are tangled up in the grey and black bedsheets, a wrought-iron pattern on the comforter bent out of shape by constant tossing and turning. Sam's bronzed skin gleams in the morning light, her cheetah-patterned lingerie making her look as wild as her hair. Somewhere along the line, Lara's shirt has torn open even more, and her perky breasts are becoming visible.

Lara awakes to Sam motorboating her.

"Ugh, Sam…good morning…"

Sam's pearly-white smile greets Lara's dazed expression.

"Wake up, sleepyhead! You gonna stay in bed all day, Lara?"

The expression on Lara's face screams "yes."

Sam drags her half-naked friend out of bed and takes a blanket with her to wrap them up in.

"We're going to watch Netflix together. We're going to have some fun."

Lara strips off the now uncomfortable clothing and curls around Sam.

"Wow. And my amazingly hot bestie is curling around me naked. Do I have the magic touch or what?"

Lara groaned.

"I'm only naked because I'm too drunk to care."

Sam flicks on the telly, tuned to a local news station.

"In other news, famed archaeologist's daughter and new media darling Lara Croft has solved the mystery of the spate of murders around Blackpool—and get this: the culprit is none other than Jack the Ripper's great-grandson! Authorities credit Sam Nishimura with obtaining the footage that brought this maniac to justice."

"Look, Lara!" Sam cries. "We're famous!"

"Joy…" Lara deadpans. "I just can't wait till _The Daily Mail _thinks up some story about me in a torrid love affair with some bored millionaire."

Sam nudges Lara.

"Ok, so they wouldn't have to stretch much…" Lara admits, laughing.

The two girls switch to Netflix and begin immediately arguing about what to watch.

"We are NOT watching _The Mummy_! It's somehow WORSE than Indiana Jones!"

"Well, we sure as hell aren't watching any documentaries, Lara. I want to havemess FUN."

Lara sighs.

"I'll check the recommendations…"

What she sees causes her to damn near punch something.

"_Whitman's World_?! FUCKING _Whitman's World_?! I am NOT watching that backstabbing son of a bitch's program! Never again!"

Sam groped Lara's breasts.

"Easy. Calm your tits, Lara."

"Very funny. You could be an American sitcom star at that rate."

The other results that popped up were little better.

"_The Ruins._ _Cannibal Holocaust._ _Shogun Assassin. The Mummy Returns. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2._ Have you been messing with my preferences, Sam?"

Sam looked a bit guilty.

"If we can't find a movie," Sam began, "we could play video games."

"I'm not much of a gamer, Sam."

"You'd like some games, I know!"

"_Call of Duty_?_ Battlefield_?Playing soldier with a bunch of drooling, sexist apes of twelve-year-old schoolboys doesn't tickle my fancy."

Sam offers _Grand Theft Auto._

"I'm a lady, not a thug with insecure power fantasies."

Sam looks desperate.

"How about _Far Cry 3_? You can raid tombs in it."

"Is that all that happens?"

"Well, no, you're this really average Joe who crashes onto a tropical island with his friends and they're kidnapped by an insane group of pirates and human traffickers and there's a cult with a goddess-queen and the Japanese were there in World War Two and holy shit I'm going to stop right there, I'm so, so sorry! I wasn't thinking…"

Lara's eyes have a thousand yard stare in them. She begins to shiver, her nude body becoming covered in goosebumps, and her breath becomes short. Sam crawls over to her and tries to hold her.

"I fucked up, Lara….I'm so fucking sorry…."

Lara begins crying, but even as she does, she begins kissing Sam.

"Oh, S-Sam…you fucking brilliant hot mess…"

The two girls hold each other for a long time. Ten minutes pass in each other's arms.

When they finally let go, Sam offers one last game idea.

"_Assassin's Creed_?"

"I'm fine with that, Sam. But not any one about fighting the British. Unless it's the one with the pirate. He's handsome."

"You are such a girly girl and it gets me hot when you admit it." Sam smirks.

Lara pulls on a robe and the two go off to game.

And as the last few strains of "Drunken Sailor" echo aboard Edward Kenway's pirate ship, Lara falls asleep with the controller in her hand.

Sam steers the ship to shore, pauses, and lays next to Lara.

"Way, hay, and down we fall…earl-aye in the morning…" Sam sings softly as she falls asleep, Lara's warm breath on her neck as she nuzzles in deeper.


	6. Chapter 6

Lara finds herself running along rocks, Sam filming her and smiling. It's a bright, sunny day. The grass is a pale but pleasant shade of green, and the wind is warm in her face.

For once, she is truly happy.

She reaches into her pack and pulls out a journal, and begins noticing landmarks in the distance, scribbling them into the book. Suddenly, she feels a warm hand on her shoulder.

It's Alex.

"Alex?" Lara asks in astonishment. She can't believe her eyes. She had seen him die. She had seen the explosion, there was no possible way…

"It's me, Lara." Alex reassures her. He walks up to Lara, with a warm smile on his face. "What are you studying?"

"Those carvings on the dais over there. I think I'm seeing something in them…something familiar. Like a sword…"

Alex winks at her. "L.C., you never do change. You're still the crazy, beautiful, amazing you I fell for."

Lara blushes, red hot.

"But how did you escape the explosion?"

"Don't worry about that, Lara…just…be with me. That kiss…I keep thinking about it, treasuring it."

Lara's face gets even redder. Suddenly, she feels a ton of regret in her. She feels herself wishing she could have saved him. Maybe if she'd tried harder, maybe if she'd noticed his affections instead of being so self-absorbed, maybe if she hadn't studied instead of talking to him…

Alex begins to remove his shirt and unzip his jeans. Lara's breath cuts short.

"Want to study a rare specimen of a sword, Lara?"

Lara's heart races as she finds herself removing his jeans and kissing him. As she removes his boxers, she pulls him close, closing her eyes and slipping down her jeans as well as the kiss deepens.

He pulls his head back for a moment.

"This is paradise, Lara. Just…I have one thing to ask you…"

"Anything, Alex."

Lara's eyes open when she feels something hard against her lips. She sees Alex's face burn and rot away, leaving a bloody skull screaming at her.

"WHY DID YOU LET ME DIE?!"

A storm picks up, even as Alex's rotting body pins her down. She hears Russian voices talking and rough hands grab her by the throat. And then, most horrifyingly of all, a rotting woman in priestess robes coming towards her bare legs, sliding her clothes away…

"Himiko…no…" Lara barely can choke out as she sees the Russian strangling her.

Before any more can happen, the sword from the dais appears and impales her through the heart.

Lara wakes up in a cold sweat, blood dripping from her throat.

She had dug her nails in in an attempt to kill herself. That much she realizes. And she wants to scream, but no sound will come out.

Sam, on the other hand, won't stop screaming.

"Lara! Lara! Oh God, Lara, speak to me!"

It takes some time for Lara to collect herself. Her voice makes sobs instead of words. Sam runs to a nearby washroom and grabs antiseptic and bandages to seal Lara's cuts. She also takes a cloth and wipes off Lara's nails. It takes a good while to get Lara to calm down, but she notices that Sam's crying as well.

"Why are you crying, Sam?" Lara asks, pretty sure that she knows the answer, but not wanting to presume.

"You hurt yourself, Lara…" the young woman sobs, her dark hair sticking to her eyelashes. Sam's eyes hide themselves a bit, looking away from Lara.

"Sam. Don't lie. That's not all that's bothering you and we both know it."

Sam looks at Lara with pain in her eyes before breaking down again.

"I heard you in your sleep, okay? And you were like, talking about Alex…and then I saw your hand move down and you started fingering yourself as you said his name…then it turned into a nightmare and I shoved that aside to help you. I tried, you know, to pleasure you to take the pain away from you, but…"

"I dreamed Alex was seducing me…and then, he turned into a zombie, blaming me for his death…I felt guilty the whole time. And then that Russian started choking me like he did on Yamatai…Himiko showed up…to…well…"

Sam sobs harder.

"You dreamed I was Himiko, didn't you?! Oh God…Lara…I'm sorry…you're sick and hurt and I'm being jealous…"

"And I'm a total fucking basket case. Why didn't you just commit me, Sam? You're way better at coping than I am…"

As Lara cries, Sam kisses her.

"Shut up, Lara. I know how it feels. I do. Yamatai fucked us both up. But…let's let the dead bury the dead, Lara. You couldn't have saved him. He told you even to let him go. You gave him what he needed. And now…it's over." Sam says, her tears fading.

Lara tries to speak. A squeak comes out and she hides in embarrassment.

"Lara, you know I've always been the talker. So let me speak again this time. I love you, Lara. As a friend, as a lover, as who you need me to be. All that matters is that I'm by your side. I don't need anything else. I don't need anyone else. I need you. Lara Croft. Lara Croft, the Tomb Raider, the Survivor, the Outsider. The media can call you whatever they want. It doesn't matter to me. I know the real Lara Croft. And she's in my arms every night now."

Lara doesn't say anything. She doesn't even move.

"Lara, if there's a time you don't have to be a stoic survivor, it's now. The time and place for fighting and being a grim hunter of fucked-up potentially cannibal cultists is not now. This is your house, Lara. Your home. Your father loved you, Lara. But he would want you to live. He wouldn't want you to be so grim and moping around. Like, I mean, to I have to hook you up with Kain? I think he's still single. Keeps muttering about souls and blood around girls, they don't really go for that dark stuff."

Lara begins laughing, softly.

And then she speaks.

"Sam…I must seem like a colossal mess to you. And I know I am. Yamatai changed me. For better, for worse, who can tell? I need time, Sam. I need time and I need you. I also need my father's journals because I get the odd feeling what I was seeing in my dream before it turned into Clive Barker's wet dream was something my father wrote down once. And I have the odd feeling our friend Jack's knife has to do with it somehow."

Sam starts smiling.

"Does this mean it's adventure time?"

Lara gives her an amused, flirty look.

"Sing that theme song and I will tickle you."

Sam gives a look of mock horror. Lara can be utterly devastating in tickle fights on the rare occasions she lets herself act, as she puts it, "like a drunken American tart on _Girls Gone Wild_."

"P-please don't! I promise I'll be good! I'll even cook you dinner tonight!"

Lara smiles at the thought of her friend's cooking.

"Are you going to make that teriyaki stir-fry you do so well?"

"Yes! I just need the ingredients. I'm not sure what you have…"

"Everything you need. I keep it well-stocked in case you want to make it."

Lara collapses back laughing some more.

"Oh God, Sam…what are we going to do with each other?"

Sam laughs too.

"Well, I can think of plenty—but we should probably find your dad's journals first. And then…how does an actual vacation to some treasure-hunting capital sound?"

Lara winks.

"Now THAT'S a date I can get behind."


	7. Chapter 7

Lara and Sam's searching in the Croft Manor library proved fruitless, as did searching Lord Croft's private shelves.

"This is ridiculous!" Sam protests, as she sits down in a chair, wringing her hands. "Did your dad like, lose his stuff?"

They were distracted by Winston clearing his throat.

"Pardon me, Mistress Croft, but I believe I have something that may be of assistance."

He held out a reel with a tightly wound cable on it and a large claw at the other end.

"This is your father's magnetic grapple. He used it many times in his adventures, and he also used it to access secret rooms and hiding places in the Manor. Perhaps it will be of some use to you. It was his desire that you have it; however, he felt it best to give it to you when the time was right. I believe now is that time."

As Lara takes the grapple with a smile and polite thanks, Winston totters off to some corner of the mansion to go dust. He leaves with a knowing smile.

Lara takes the cord and examines it, then looks at a coat of arms up above her.

"That looks to be made of iron, Sam. And I have a feeling something could be behind it."

Lara gives it a swing, and after a few missed hits, she connects with it, firmly clamping the claw on it. She pulls the coat of arms down, and examines the back. There is a series of numbers carved in the back of it, along with a pattern.

"I think I've seen this pattern before," Lara continues, taking the coat of arms with her, it being far lighter than it looks. "It should match the desk in father's study…he always was fond of his little secret compartments and things."

Sam rolls her eyes.

"Let me guess, if I pull this one book from the shelf, it'll activate a secret lever that'll open up to a laboratory or mausoleum or general secret place."

She pulls on a book mockingly, but then the bookcase swings open like a door.

"Lara. We need to have a talk about your parents, and how, apparently, they were _Scooby-Doo_ villains."

Lara presses on ahead into the room, ignoring Sam's quip. She has to know. She has to know just what her father was hiding.

To her surprise, there isn't much in the room. There is a small bookshelf full of leather-bound books, the odd curio, a set of antique pistols in a case, bizarre symbols sketched on framed pieces of paper, and finally a davenport full of more old papers and notes.

There is a book that looks like a journal, and Lara vows to take a look at it another time.

Something is bothering her, and she begin to shiver.

She pulls open the book, against her own will.

It reads on the first page she opens to:

"Jack…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything…but fame and glory blinded me…and I am too late to apologize."

It is in Richard Croft's handwriting. Lord Croft had written his name on each entry in the book.

Lara puts the book down, and pulls Sam into her arms.

Tears run down Sam's shoulder. There is shivering.

But neither says anything as they collapse to their knees and sob into each other's arms.


End file.
